Stupid Shuichi
by animelover151
Summary: Sometimes we shouldn't take things at face value, and when Shuichi thinks too hard he forgets this fact. Will things really be okay if Yuki continues with his cold facade?


Slam. The door shut with tremendous force. I winced as the wind fluffed my hair up. He was very angry. I sighed and turned sliding down against the door. My hands soon came up to cup my knees and my head bent down to meet them. It was not a new pose to me. No, this pose I had taken up in the past was a familiar one. A sigh escaped my lips followed by a small sob. It was so painful to have every door shut in my face like that. Yuki sometimes acted like he really didn't care. I heard his fingers pounding away at the keyboard. They almost made music of their own. I let out a bark at that thought. Writers all over the world would hit me for that one; well if Yuki was a good example of writers.

I waited for some sound to break his cadence and when none came I knew my existence was forgotten. Slowly getting to my feet I took a step forward and faltered. My feet were asleep. I smiled a weak smile and began to move once again. My feet were sturdier this time, and they could easily handle my weight. I shuffled to the couch and plopped down. It was more comfortable than the floor and I adjusted quickly. Even in here I could hear Yuki's song. I wondered briefly if that would be good inspiration for a song of my own, but the thought soon passed.

My hands were heavy on my chest and I lifted them into the air. My eyes looked at my familiar fingers and smooth, tan arms that connected to my unseen shoulders. Yuki would hold these hands in the heat of night and passion. I smiled remembering the warmth they would bring to me. It always felt nice. A thought began to push its way into my mind as I continued to stare. Did Yuki even want me around? There were nights better than tonight and ones where he was unbearably sweet. Even though he had never said those special words, I there wasn't a need for him to. Yuki was a man of few words, his actions spoke for him.

When I was sick he would always keep me on my medication and help me do what I needed to. Meals were mostly supplied for me. I almost never had to cook for myself. He would always make sure I was gone for work on time, and there were other things as well. Yuki pretended to be cold and said mean things while he done the opposite. It was simply his nature. Yuki was nice to me in his own way. I needed Yuki to survive.

Did Yuki need me? Did Yuki even want me around? I could assume that since I hadn't been kicked to the curb already the answer was yes, but there was something nagging at the back of my mind. Yuki never really smiled. He never really laughed or looked like he was having a truly good time. Even though we were together and I was really happy, was I holding Yuki back? The thought spread through my mind like a plague. All I ever wanted was for Yuki to experience true joy and happiness in this life. The kind of happiness that was commonplace, at least, before the incident with Kitazawa. It seemed that as long as I was around this was impossible.

"Ne, Yuki?"

"What brat?"

"Are you...happy?"

"...what?"

"Does being with me make you happy?"

"Happy? Please with you I'm lucky to feel anything besides annoyance."

"Oh."

Yuki had said it plain and simple. Happiness would not come as long as I was around. Tears traced their way down my face as I tried to contemplate what to do next. I sat in our bed. It was dark and lonely. I stood up and walked down the hall to the kitchen.

There were many things in the kitchen that I was under orders that no matter the circumstances I should not touch. My overall clumsiness and inability to cook were the two main reasons for Yuki's stern rules. I smiled a small smile. He really did worry about me a lot. I walked over to the drawer where the knives were kept. There was an array, but I chose a simple knife. I ran my fingers along the edge and winced when a pool of blood began to form. It was sharp, or at least sharp enough. I wondered for a moment if I was being a bit rash. Yuki always did say the opposite of what he meant, but I couldn't shake the feeling that the truth had finally been spoken.

I didn't want to do this in the house. I would leave a mess, but somehow I didn't want to do it anywhere else. The park was too open. Everywhere but here was too strange. Besides I had lived my happiest moments in this house. Tears began to roll down my cheeks as I thought of those happy times. I was so selfish. Did I ever think about anyone but myself?

I walked down the hall on my way to the bedroom. I stopped in front of his office. The door was a familiar site to me. My heart clenched when I thought about it. Yuki was the only thing in my thoughts. There wasn't any room for anything else. I wasn't sobbing like usual. Instead great tears rolled down my face nonstop. I felt my heart begin to break.

I looked down at the knife in my hand. It was large, but not huge. Such a small device could end it all. I took a second to think about where. Not the wrists, I thought such a clichÈ death did not suit me, a pop star, after all. I brought the knife up to my neck. I thought about all the kisses Yuki had left there. I didn't realize that my grip on the knife had grown so hard. Blood poured from deep gashes in my palms. It hurt, but thoughts of him sitting behind that door eased the pain. I pressed the knife against my neck and felt it start to penetrate. I didn't know if I should pull it across or push it in. I was standing pushing, trying to decide, covered in blood mixed with tears, and ready to die.

The brat walked off and I considered for a moment what I had just said. The door was closed between us so I didn't see his face. I wonder if it was really as bad as his voice sounded. Usually he would be knocking the door down to talk to me. It was an odd question anyway. Am I happy? I guess I am. I mean hell I don't know how to live without that damn idiot anymore. He is refreshing, in a dumb way. It isn't like regular happiness though. I don't believe I will ever be all smiles like Shuichi is. That isn't my personality anymore.

I tried to continue typing my story, but I was now distracted. I pushed my cigarette into the ashtray and leaned back into my leather chair. What to do. Shuichi could be very dumb at times and the house was silent. He must have left. A shadow in front of my door stopped me from musing. He was home? I was shocked. How was he so quiet? Curiosity got the better of me and I found myself standing. The distance to the door was easy to cross and I placed my hand on the handle. Shuichi might want some time one on one. That got me eager to see him all the more. I swung the door open and what I saw stopped all of those notions dead.

He was standing there covered in something red. It was mixed into his hair, clashing with the vibrant pink. It was all over the tank top and boxers he wore. It covered his hands and didn't seem to be stopping. I saw it puddle on the floor. In his hand there was a shiny, metallic object. It was pushed hard and beads of the red stuff had begun flowing out of his neck. Tears cascaded down his face mixing with the stuff. His eyes looked dead, like he didn't even see me. That's when it hit me. It was blood. Blood was everywhere.

I saw his small, delicate hand start to jerk and my reactions set in. I twisted that damned thing out of his hand and threw it, hard. I heard it hit somewhere down the hallway. Shuichi jerked up to look at me and gasped. I tackled him to the ground. I was angry. No I was furious. I felt my hands grind the bones in his wrist together. I felt his body jerk in pain. I felt the blood spread to my hands and saw the cut on his throat.

"What are you doing?" Yuki sounded mad. I didn't expect him to come out. I didn't expect him to see. I don't know what to say. His eyes bore into mine, and his grip hurt my wrists. I was still crying. No matter what I wanted to say to him, it seemed that I could not muster the strength speak.

The brat just looked at me with empty eyes. Like he didn't know what to say, like he didn't know why he did this. I snarled at him and I felt the pulse in his wrist jump. He was afraid. Well too bad, I was the more terrified out of the two of us, and I wanted answers.

"Why in hell would you want to kill yourself? Shuichi, answer me!"

"I!I!I wanted to be your happiness. It seems!.it's not!possible." He whispered and looked down. I opened my mouth but couldn't say anything. Shuichi's question had been a decision. Dammit he knew I messed around with him. I saw something plop down on his face and he looked up surprised. It was tears, my tears. They came out and I felt my heart clench. This idiot, he had to be the biggest idiot alive. I smashed my lips down on his and he stiffened underneath me. I curled my arms around his body and held him close. He began to fight, but my strength was much greater. I was not usually this caring, but I didn't know what else to do. His lame brain stunt had brought my walls down. I pulled him closer and breathed in what was left of that strawberry scent.

"Shu, I- you're right. It's not possible to become my happiness." I felt his body slump and chuckled a little. The brat should be more patient, and let me finish my sentence. "You already are."


End file.
